by Amy Patrick
I pulled my phone from my pocket and focused on her, framing her up with the iconic street marker.
“Hey, what is that?” I lowered the camera and took a step toward the wall, pointing out a wrapped package partially obscured by an overhanging shrub.
Macy went to it and pulled it out. The white square box was topped with a white satin bow. There was no tag, nothing to indicate what might be inside.
She lifted it and turned it around. “What do you think it is?”
I shrugged. “Open it, and let’s see.”
“Okay.” Her tone was eager and she pinched the end of the bow, prepared to pull it, but stopped. Her brows pulled together beneath the brim of her fuzzy knit hat. “I probably shouldn’t. What if someone put it there for somebody to find?”
“You mean like a drug money drop or something?” I smiled. “It has a white satin bow. Maybe it’s a gift someone dropped while walking through the park. They’re probably looking everywhere for it, trying to figure out where they lost it. We should open it and see what it is—then we can return it to the rightful owner.”
“You’re right.”
The excitement of the mystery returned for her, and she carefully set the box on top of the wall, untied the bow, and lifted the lid. She looked up at me.
“It’s… a cupcake.”
“A cupcake? What flavor?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted the elaborately decorated treat from the box. It was topped with at least a thousand calories worth of creamy white frosting and crowned by delicate flower petals made from either white fondant or white chocolate—I couldn’t tell. Macy pulled back the edge of the cupcake liner to see beneath the swirl of white frosting. “It’s red velvet,” she exclaimed. “That’s my favorite.”
“What are those little colored things on top?” I asked, leading her into it.
“Rainbow sprinkles.” Her eyes veered back to mine and bulged in shock. “Nic—did you put this here?”
I only smiled. The chimes of Big Ben sounded in the distance, ringing the midnight hour. As if on cue, the intoxicated bar patrons crossed the street, starting to pass us. Suddenly they all stopped in place. And started singing. Because it had been a cue. And they weren’t intoxicated bar patrons.
Macy’s shocked face swiveled to stare at them, then she searched my face again. “Nic… what’s happening?”
As the hired quartet serenaded her, I dropped to one knee on the snowy pavement and took her hand—the one not holding the cupcake—in mine.
“Macy, I love you—more than I know how to express. I know we’re not out of the woods yet, so to speak, with the Plague. I know we have many challenges ahead of us. But I’d rather face them with you than anyone else in the world.”
Macy’s shoulders began shaking as she realized what was happening. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as I continued.
“You know I’m already bonded to you, so no matter what you say, I’ll always want to be with you and keep you safe. But it would make me the happiest man on earth if you’ll say you love me too, and agree to marry me, and spend eternity as my wife.”
“Oh Nic,” she whispered. “I love you so much.” After pausing to swallow and blink back tears, she said, “Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you. You are the only person I could imagine spending eternity with.”
Overjoyed, I got to my feet and lifted her, swinging her around and kissing her hard. Off to our side, the singing stopped, replaced by applause and the loud pop of a champagne cork. I lifted my head to see two of the singers approaching, one holding the bottle, the other offering two filled flutes.
“Congratulations,” they both said, smiling widely.
“Thank you. Excellent job, gentlemen. Thank you.”
The two joined the other singers, and the four of them walked off down the street together, leaving Macy and me alone. Macy waved good-bye and then gazed up into my eyes. “How did you… when…” She shook her head in wonderment.
“Well, I may have spent a considerable amount of time researching, ‘World’s Most Romantic Places to Propose,’ on the internet. And I made a few phone calls this morning once I learned we’d be heading for England.”
“Thank you. It couldn’t have been more perfect.”
I grinned down at her and kissed the tip of her cold nose then her lips. “Well, it could be… if there was a ring.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, don’t even worry about that. You haven’t had time to shop for rings, and I don’t even need one. I—”
“Piccola,” I interrupted. “Take a closer look at that cupcake.”
Frozen for an instant, she blinked several times then followed my instructions, bringing the flower-topped confection closer to her face. Her eyelids flared, and her lips formed a small “o.”
Reaching into the whorls of the center flower’s petals, she pulled out the ring. The golden band was encrusted with tiny, glittering diamonds in an ancient Elven pattern. A much larger radiant-cut diamond was set into the top.
“Oh my… wow. This is the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen in my life. When did you…”
“I procured it in Altum. The day after we got there—those Light Elven craftsmen are incredible.”
“You’ve had it all this time? Wait—how did you get it to England?”
I smiled, rather pleased with myself and how my grand plan had worked out. “The ring flew here with us on the plane. When I leaned back into the car to ‘pay the driver,’ I gave it to him and he drove over here and put it in the cupcake while we walked around the cathedral. The driver was a plant—like the flash mob singers. And… here he is now.”
Right on schedule, the car pulled around the corner and came to a stop.
“Ready to go to the hotel?” I asked, opening the back door for Macy. "It's not far.”
“I’m ready to marry you right here and now,” she said. “Too bad the cathedral’s not open for business.”
I laughed, thrilled by her eagerness—and a bit regretful I hadn’t thought of that one myself.
“It is too bad. Unfortunately we do have to wait. You think Alessia’s vicious? You wouldn’t want to see my twin sister if she were left out of such an important occasion. Our eternity together would come to a very abrupt and painful end.”
Tapping on the back of the front seat, I indicated to the driver we were ready to go. Then I shifted and took my fiancée into my arms and kissed her all the way to the hotel. Figuratively we had a long road ahead of us, but at least now I was confident we’d be facing it together.
24
Macy
The next morning, I woke with a start, wondering if it had all been a dream. Drawing my left hand from beneath the covers, I held it up to check. And smiled. The magnificent ring glittered in the small beam of light penetrating a gap in the hotel draperies.
Turning my head, I saw Nic still asleep beside me, fully clothed, on top of the covers. And I smiled even wider. There was the real priceless jewel. This guy was unbelievably gorgeous. And sweet. And good. And he was mine. Forever.
When the group of “drunken carousers” had abruptly stopped in the street and turned toward us last night, I’d been frightened at first. But then they’d placed their hands dramatically over their hearts and started singing, and my head had started spinning. It all happened so fast—the surprise box, the incredible cupcake.
I was thrilled when I’d thought that was all there was to it. But then Nic had encouraged me to look closer at the beautiful confection, and I’d finally spotted the ring. My heart had nearly burst with happiness.
Were elaborate proposals common in the Ancient Court? I didn’t know, but I assumed I’d learn all these things in time since I’d be spending the rest of my life—of my eternity—with an Elf. The thought made me giddy. The only thing that could have been better than learning Nic was alive was learning that our time together was unlimited and knowing we’d soon be married. I was too grateful to even put into words.
A
nd that was one more reason I had to do anything necessary to help the humans. I had been blessed beyond measure—how could I not want to pay it forward? I’d start with Olly.
Even if the worst happened and we didn't reach all the fan pod girls before the Plague was activated, at least Olly would be saved.
“Good morning,” I said, leaning over to wake Nic with a kiss to the cheek.
His eyelids fluttered open. For a moment there was disorientation in the liquid brown depths, but it was quickly replaced by warmth. “Good morning, piccola. Did you sleep well?”
“Best night of my life—so far.” I added a flirty tone to those last two words. Soon we’d be married and we’d truly be a bonded couple. Before we could get to that, though, we had to complete the task of treating all the girls who carried the Plague virus.
“It’s nearly eight o’clock,” I told him. “We should probably get up and going.”
“You’re right. We’ve much traveling ahead of us. The sooner we treat Olly, the sooner we can get to the other girls.”
He rolled out of bed and sauntered toward the bathroom, pulling his shirt up and over his head as he went. God help me. If the fate of the human race hadn’t been hanging in the balance, he’d never have made it to the shower without me tackling him and dragging him back to the bed.
As it was, we both showered and dressed quickly, picking up pastries downstairs in the hotel coffee shop to eat on the short plane trip to Bristol. From the airfield there, we took a taxi. A few streets from Olly’s, Nic handed me his phone so I could text my young British friend. I tapped in the words, grinning with eager anticipation.
Macy: Hi, it’s Macy. What are you doing?
The answer came across the screen moments later.
Olly: Just finishing my porridge.
Macy: Are you dressed or still in your jammies?
Olly: Dressed. Why? You want to Skype?
Our car pulled up to the curb in front of Olly’s address, a two-story stone-front row house with a tiny front garden and leafy green vines growing up and over the blue-painted front door and the bay windows.
Macy: No, I want you to open the door.
Nic and I got out of the back seat. Moments later, the front door flew open, and Olly’s wide-eyed face stared back at us.
She screamed and ran down the steps toward me, dressed in leggings, an oversized sweater, pink socks, and no shoes or jacket. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you’re really here.” She turned to Nic. “You weren’t lying—you really did come back with her.”
“I told you so.” He grinned.
“Are you married?” she squealed, hopping on her toes.
“Not yet,” I told her. “But look at this.” I held out my left hand, knuckles up, for her inspection.
“Oh wow. That is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like a fairy tale ring. I bet Princess Kate’s ring isn’t even this big.”
“You shouldn’t have come out with no coat and no shoes on,” I said. “You must be freezing.”
“I am.” She took my hand and started pulling me toward the door. “Come in. You have to meet my mum. Dad’s gone out, but Nanna lives with us, and you can meet her, too. They’ve heard all about you. They’re dying to meet you. You two can stay in Wes’s old room, and we’ll have dinner tonight at my favorite restaurant. I’ll wear the new dress I got for my birthday, and…”
I turned and grinned at Nic over my shoulder as Olly dragged me through the vestibule into the entrance hall, chattering nonstop. We wouldn’t be staying the night, but I didn't want to throw cold water on her happiness. I’d tell her later.
I’d never been in an English household. All my time in London I’d spent visiting tourist attractions and stayed nights in a youth hostel. Olly’s home wasn’t large, but it was nice, smelling of herbs and coffee, and decorated with a pleasant clutter of tchotchkes and numerous potted plants in each room I could see. The walls of the entrance hallway were covered in a fascinating running mural of vine-covered tree trunks and gnarled limbs.
Olly led us to the kitchen, where the first thing I noticed were the floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted cabinets that occupied an entire wall. Inside were shelves displaying bottles of every imaginable shape and size—hundreds of them. Some had faded, handwritten labels, most did not. Someone in the family was obviously a collector of antique bottles.
A long wooden work table centered the room, and behind it stood a middle aged woman with a short-cropped pouf of blonde hair and a big smile displaying prominent front teeth that were slightly crossed. A pot rack hung over her head and from it were suspended a variety of drying herbs, making it seem as though she were standing between curtains of fragrant greenery.
“For mercy’s sake, Olly, you didn’t even invite them to remove their boots and cloaks?” Wiping her hands first on a dish towel, she came forward and extended a hand.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Macy. I’m Ciarra. I am so grateful to you for being a friend to Olly when she was in that dreadful place. And I’m so happy the both of you were able to escape. I’m not fond of those fan pods—or of that horrible Buonoccorsi family.” She turned to Nic. “And who is this handsome young man?”
“Nic… Bonneaux,” he said, altering his last name at the last second. “I’m Macy’s fiancé. We met in France.” Technically true, as the island of Corsica was a French territory. I noticed he added more of a French flair to his accent than he usually allowed.
“Well, Nic, you are lucky to have gotten your young lady back. I hope from now on you two will listen to your parents when it comes to these things.” She wagged a finger at me and Olly, causing us to cut our eyes at each other in commiseration. “Now, who would like a cup of tea?”
Olly led us to the sitting room and invited us to sit on a sofa in front of the tiled hearth. Floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases flanked it, which drew my attention instantly. I was always fascinated by other people’s books. These were interesting. Some of them looked ancient, and there seemed to be quite a few about botany. They had titles like Natural Cures for Common Ailments and Plants, Herbs, and Flowers and their Practical Uses.
Ciarra came in with the tea tray, setting it on a low table in front of the sofa before seating herself opposite us in a chair. “Now, we must all get to know one another properly.”
Nic and I made small talk and answered her questions as best we could without revealing anything classified. After a few minutes, an older woman descended the central staircase and entered the room.
She wore a simple blue cotton dress, belted at the waist. Her gray hair was styled in a casual twist. She was of average height and weight, like Ciarra. Unlike the younger woman, she did not wear a welcoming expression. Her blue-gray eyes bored into Nic as if she could see directly past his handsome camouflage and directly into his Elven nature. When her eyes turned to me, they changed, narrowing and growing warmer, almost… appreciative looking. I wondered how old she was and if, perhaps, she suffered from a bit of dementia.
Ciarra stood. “Mother, come and meet Olly’s friend Macy and her fiancé Nic. Macy, Nic, this is Olly’s grandmother, my mother, Fenella Rowan.”
We both stood. Nic offered his hand first, but she bypassed him and reached toward me instead, walking up to me until she was uncomfortably close. She looked me over, smiling.
“It’s very nice to meet you. Where are you from? Where is your family?” The woman spoke so close to my face I could smell the scent of her flowery skin cream and black licorice on her breath.
I sat back down before answering, reclaiming my personal space. “I’m American. My parents and sister live in Missouri.”
“Ah,” she said, continuing to stand directly in front of me—which meant she now looked down at me. “And do you have a large family?”
“Um…” I slid a glance to the side toward Nic, who returned my this is bizarre look. “Not really. Just kind of the normal size. Some cousins on my mom’s side. My dad’s family lives in Texas.”
“Yes. Good. And they are small—like you?”
What? This was one of the strangest conversations I’d ever had. It didn’t feel like a conversation at all—more like an interrogation.
“Macy is adopted,” Nic interjected. “She’s one of a kind.” His tone was jovial, but his smile was too tight. I could tell he was as disconcerted by the woman as I was.
“Oh how lovely.” Ciarra emitted a forced laugh, acting as if the scene in her sitting room was just an ordinary chat over tea. “Arthur and I considered adopting, but then Olly’s brother Wes had such health problems, and it was all I could handle, honestly. How do you like your tea, Nic? May I pour for you? Mother—why don’t you have a seat?” she gritted between clenched teeth.
“I don’t really care for any. Thank you anyway,” Nic said.
“Oh no. I insist now. You must try it. I make the best pot of tea in South Gloucestershire.”
He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. She was obviously nervous over her mother’s inappropriate social behavior, and being the nice guy he was, he accepted.
“How can I resist then? Thank you. Only a little sugar for me.”
Olly’s grandmother finally stepped back and went to a chair of her own. She never took her eyes from me, though. Dementia, definitely. That must have been difficult for the family. I decided to follow their lead and pretend like I didn’t notice the bizarre behavior.
“I can make my own.” I reached for the teapot when Ciarra finished pouring Nic’s cup.
“It’s no trouble, at all,” she said. “You must let me serve you—you are an important guest.”
“Thank you.” I sat back and smiled, watching as she added a spoonful of sugar to my cup followed by a dose of cream. “It smells delicious. I love tea in England. It’s such a nice tradition, and it just tastes better than it does in the States for some reason.”
She gave me a grateful smile. “Well, Arthur has gone Yank on us and started drinking coffee. Wes, too. He takes it as strong as can be. I don’t know how they drink the stuff. Cream for you?”